


The man I'm supposed to be

by Narya



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon Rewrite, Drama, F/M, Human!Derek, Humor, M/M, Other, Romance, Werewolf!Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 14:09:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narya/pseuds/Narya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek just couldn't understand Stiles at all. For a werewolf he was too loud, talked too much, and smiled too widely. He couldn't take him seriously, no matter how much he scared him sometimes. But Derek was just a human, and he couldn't resist temptation for too long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**1.1**

It all began when Laura got that dispatch call. It was an awful habit, but Derek was so used to listening to her calls that he didn’t think twice about doing it nowadays. At first it was a way to know what his sister was working on, how dangerous it was and how much he’d have to worry. Now it was just for the fun of it. It was a bit weird to be listening to other people’s stories, but it was so much better than spending the night thinking about his own.

And that night he listened with some curious attention to the news that there was a body in the woods. Half the body of a man in the woods.

His curiosity got the better of him.

So what if maybe he scared Scott when he creeped into his room through his window, the guy should be used to it by then. He had only been doing that for ten years now. Scott went with him anyway, because the possibility of a full night of sleep was much more boring than whatever was happening in the woods right then.

They ran towards the barking of the dogs, wondering what had they found and if somehow it translated to something fun (God knew that this was the most fun in Beacon Hills since the car crash between Coach Finstock and Mr. Harris, and that was just pathetic).

Scott, as always, fell behind. He had just turned to look at him, waiting him to catch up, when there was barking and a flashlight in front of his face, surprising him. He may have fallen.

“Hold it right there!” he heard. It was a man, possibly a policeman.

“Hang on, hang on,” he heard almost immediately. He cringed. “This little delinquent belongs to me.” He stood up, cleaning his hands and trying to keep a bit of his dignity, though he knew better than to imagine that Laura would let him keep it.

“Laura, how are you doing?”

“So, are you listening to all my calls now?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow that he knew meant serious business.

“No, not all… not the boring ones, or the sex calls” he added, just for the fun of watching the colors rise into his sister’s face. It didn’t work.

“Now, where’s your usual partner in crime?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“In bed I imagine. Wanted to save his breath for tomorrow, first day of school and all” Derek answered, hoping to God that the guy knew by now that he should stay hidden wherever he was.

“Scott, are you out there?” she demanded anyway, looking into the woods with her flashlight. “I know where you live, kiddo.”

After a few seconds her eyes went back to Derek, and she tugged his ear until he bent down.

“Well, little bro, I’m going to walk you to your car, and we’re having an awkward and uncomfortable talk about something called invasion of privacy. It will be awful, for you and me, but maybe it will teach you not to listen to my calls,” she droned. By then the only thing he wanted was to free his ear both of the tug and the lecture.

He trusted Scott to go back home alright. He’d text him later or something.

 

**

 

Ok, so, maybe he forgot about the texting.

But Scott made it fine, in one piece, if missing a bit of blood and slightly scared. He was fine, he was alive, and that was all that counted.

But then Scott started to get freakishly good at sports -like he had no breathing problems at all-, and complained about hearing too much, smelling everything too well, and how did he even know about that gum in his pocket?

And he, jokingly, said it was lycanthropy, thinking of all those movies and games about it. Come on, they had played and watched countless of them. It fitted, not that they believed it could be possible.

The woods looked really different in the light of the day, but Scott’s inhaler was completely lost, it would be impossible to find it when there where so many leaves around. The body that Scott’s said he had seen though, that was bigger, it should be there… but it wasn’t.

“Hey, guys!” came a shout from behind them. They turned to see a guy in a red hoodie, hands in his pockets and a confident smile. “This is private property. What are you doing here?” he asked, with a goofy smile.

“Sorry, we didn’t know” Derek hurried to answer. There was something about this guy (even if he was all smiles) that he didn’t like. Maybe it was the way he resembled that picture he had seen, so long ago, on one of the files Laura had been working on when she had just started at the police.

“Yeah, we were just looking for something but… forget it.”

The guy took out one of his hands from the hoodie’s pockets and threw something at Scott. Derek didn’t have to look to know what it was.

“Take better care of your stuff, those things aren’t exactly cheap,” the man said. He turned around and started walking back in the way he had come from, deeper into the woods. “And get out of my property, boys, before I have to call your parents or the police.”

The man had been a safe distance when Scott turned, looking at Derek weirdly. Maybe it was because of the way Derek himself was starting at the back of that man, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“All right, I gotta get to work” or maybe not.

“Man, that was Stiles Stilinski” he said, stopping Scott with a hand. “You remember? From the fire ten years ago, the one that killed his whole family? He must be a few years older than us” 

“I wonder what’s he doing back,” Scott, as always, stated the obvious. Derek just rolled his eyes before starting the trek back to his car.

If maybe, on the road, he turned to look back to the way the man had gone, and found him looking straight at them, he didn’t comment on it. Everything was weird enough as it was, without adding a guy that looked too happy for being the only survivor of such a tragedy.

 

 

***

 

If there was something he had learnt after all those years living with someone who worked in the police it was the fact that, sometimes, getting to the end of the problem took more instinct than anything else. A good gut feeling could be the start of a branch of investigation that gave light to the truth.

Laura called it thinking outside the box; Derek called it thinking things through.

Whichever were the case, Derek spent all night looking for an answer.

It was impossible not to when he saw the way that Scott moved now, and how his wound had disappeared, and how freaking accurate his senses were getting. He followed his gut, that joke he had made in the woods, and started searching. California didn’t have wolves, and he trusted that if Scott said he had seen one, hence it must have been one; the guy worked in an animal clinic after all, he should know his animals.

What he found was something completely out of mind, but the only thing that seemed likely.

And his advice went completely unheard, and he only got a really awful scratch on the back of his chair… and the scare of his life.

He should be used to be scared by now, but he guessed he wasn't.

 

***

 

Between all the young people dancing and drinking, Derek looked more out of place than Stiles did. The guy was looking at Scott like it was no one business, but he still managed to get a few drinks and some girls dancing with him, even if no one even knew him besides Scott and Derek.

There was something fundamentally wrong in the whole scenario, but Derek couldn’t seem to care. He was just too worried about the way that Scott could behave, and wanted to avoid any killing spree, so, people would have to forgive him if he wasn’t in a party mode.

Stiles Stilinski seemed to be more than comfortable to take his place, if the way he was trying to break dance was any indication.

When Scott walked away from the house, looking sick and out of his mind, Derek worried. He walked right behind him, prepared to intervene if needed, but Scott was inside his car before he could even offer his help.

Allison was standing in front of the house, looking lost and confused, and Derek thought for a moment to offer his car if she wanted a ride ( _“I don’t think it’s necessary to tell you in how much trouble you’ll be if I, or any of my men, catch you driving drunk, right?”_ ). He was going to go back for his jacket when he saw something that made him stop.

“Hey, you’re Allison, right?” said a goofy voice over his right. Derek turned to see Stiles walk to the girl and offer his hand. “I’m a friend of Scott’s. Sorry about that, he just gets really weird asthma attacks. Do you need a ride?”

They left. Well, Allison was a big girl and Derek had more pressing matters right now. He took his jacket from the closet in which he had thrown it and got to his car. Scott needed him right now.

 

***

 

So… werewolves were real. Scott McCall was one of them, Stiles Stilinski was one of them too and he had bit his friend and he had killed the man in the woods, and then he had taken Allison from the party only to get her home _safely_.

That last one was really strange.

And, neither of those things fitted with the image Derek had in his head about the man that laughed out loud, that tried to dance like a robot and that used hoodies. He barely looked like someone who went to college, Derek was sure that the guy must be carded everywhere if he went out partying, and yet Stilinski had killed a man in such an awful way and cursed his best friend.

Stilinski was a werewolf and looked nothing like one of them.

It didn’t fit. Nothing there did.

 

 

**1.2**

 

Laura was taking this too seriously, a curfew just because of the body found in the woods? Well, a murder was something serious, but Scott was sure that he knew the murderer… and there was no way to prove anything.

Unless Derek somehow managed to find the proofs, and he would because staying at home alone each night while Laura had night shifts, with all the memories of his parents in the house, was too much to bear.

He’d rather prove that Stilinski was the murderer and go back to his old life.

 

***

 

He wasn't stupid; he saw the wolf and he saw the man. He knew what that meant. So he didn’t doubt it before slipping into the cruiser where Stilinski is sitting, like he was lounging in his living room. His hands were behind him, yet he looked completely at ease. It infuriated him.

“Ok, just so you know… I’m not afraid of you” he sdeclared, and it was true. He couldn't be afraid of someone that looked nothing like a monster or predator. He should know better, though, he had seen enough files to know how little appearances meant when the person was unbalanced.

“Oh, really?” Stilinski asked, lifting an eyebrow and giving him a lopsided smile. Yeah, he knew better. Maybe he was a bit afraid.

“I just want to know something. That man, the one you killed, he was a werewolf, but he was a different kind, wasn’t he? He could turn into a real wolf, he was more powerful. Is that why you killed him?” he whispered. Derek could see that the guy understood though, if the guilty look in his eyes is anything to go by.

“You shouldn’t be worrying about me right now, you know? Sure, I’ll go to jail, I’ll answer a bunch of questions, and then I’m going free. But what are you going to do when your friend there shifts on the field? When he goes wolfy and kills maybe two or ten people. I’m sure by then people are going to be cheering him something hardcore” the guy commented with an uninterested glance. He shrugged and sat back. “I’d be glad to stop him if it came to that but, oh, wait. I can’t. It’s not like I’m going be able to just walk out of the jail cell you two are going to send me, not so fast at least. It’s on your hands now, boy. You might want to keep him from playing. Or you know, don’t. I’m sure the hunters will kill him before he does too much damage”

Derek wanted to say something more but the door was opening and an arm was yanking him out of the car. Laura dragged him until they were far enough from the car that they could speak privately.

“Do I really want to know what got into your brain? He’s a suspect of murder, what do you have in your mind?” she asked; her frown was so deep that Derek was sure that he was in problems.

“I just wanted to help. There was something I needed to know” he answered.

“Ok, how about you let me understand how it was that you came across this… during the night, while there’s a curfew” she crossed her arms over her chest and Derek tried to think fast of something to say. He couldn’t think of anything, not really.

“We… were looking for Scott’s inhaler and we found it?” he suggested.

“And why were you looking at it here?” she asked.

“Because he was… jogging?” he answered, kinda.

“Yeah, like Scott can run more than 10 feet without having an asthma attack. You can’t lie worth shit, bro” she said, ruffling his hair. “Now get away from here”

While he walked towards Scott, Derek turned towards the cruiser, wondering once again what Stilinski meant with all he said. Stiles was looking at him with a goofy smile that Derek didn’t understand at all.

 

***

 

The game went ok, somehow it went fine. Scott apparently could control the werewolf, which was really good news because Derek didn’t really want to be wolf pray again, but he’d do it if it helped him out.

He took a breath; he inhaled and exhaled in relief… and then got stressed all over again when he saw Laura on the phone, with a serious expression and holding a hand to keep Derek from asking questions yet.

Oh, God, he already could imagine what it was.

Stiles Stilinski was let out of jail and the man, the dead body, was Ashley Stilinski, Stiles’ father.

 

 

**1.4**

 

Derek got into his car, thinking for once that he might have the afternoon free to maybe read a bit into his English Literature homework and look up more into that werewolf problem of Scott’s. He never thought about almost running over Stiles and how that would change his day, if not week, or month, or life.

Scott ran to them and started helping the man into a sitting position, while Derek got out of the car and looked at them, worrying a bit about the honking symphony he could already hear starting.

“What are you doing here?” Scott asked.

“I got shot, genius” Stiles answered. He looked pale and sick, could barely stand up on his own, and yet he had the energy to be sassy.

“He doesn’t look so good, dude. Maybe we could take this somewhere else?” Derek proposed.

“Why aren’t you healing?” Scott asked, completely missing Derek’s suggestion.

“It was a different kind of bullet…”

“Silver bullet?” Derek inquired.

“No, dumbass!”

“Wait, wait, wait. This is what she meant when she said you had 48 hours?” Scott noted, looking surprised.

“Who said that? I didn’t say that. Who said that?” Stiles rambled. “Who said 48 hours?”

“The one that shot you” Scott answered.

And then Stiles had some kind of spasm, like the bullet was being pushed inside again and he could barely control the pain. Derek was speechless as he saw the guy’s eyes change color from whatever it was before to a reflecting light blue. Something electric, like lighting, something that made shivers run down Derek’s spine.

“What are you doing? Stop that!” Scott snapped as soon as he saw the flicker.

“I’m trying to tell you, I can’t. Magic bullet, hello? Hurt like a bitch and it’s magic?” Stiles retorted, his teeth grinding in his mouth to keep the pain at bay.

“Stiles, get up!” Scott directed, getting up himself and lifting Stiles from the ground. “I’m gonna put him in your car” he said later, looking at Derek.

So, Derek stays outside the car, hoping that somehow those people could forget that he just stood there letting his friend talk to a guy that, frankly, creeped him out a bit, while they were honking their hands off. Until he saw Allison get out of her car, and really, Allison Argent + Stiles Stilinski wasn’t a good mix. He got inside the car just as Scott was saying fine to whatever Stiles had asked.

“Get him out of here” Scott asked him.

“I hate you so much” Derek mumbled, with a pointed glare.

He got out of the parking lot, not without stealing a glance at the almost passed out Stiles beside him. Stiles was, most of the time, just grumbling and grunting, and then he looked like he was going to start talking but didn’t. In the end he started fiddling with the radio (without Derek’s authorization) while Derek sent message after message to Scott. Who he hoped was on the verge of dead or something, because he was starting to freak out.

When a message back finally came it only said _“Need more time”_.

Yeah, sure, more time to make out maybe.

He looked to the side, where Stiles was in one of his this-hurts-like-a-bitch phases. Or maybe it was just that taking off the red hoodie was difficult given the wound, not that Derek cared.

“Hey, try not to bleed out on my seats, will you? We’re almost there” he said, looking at the approaching entrance of the preserve.

“Almost where? Dude, where are you taking me?” Stiles asked, sitting up a bit straighter and looking around.

“To your house” Derek answered.

“What? No, you’re not. You can’t take me there. Buddy, not my house!”

“I can’t take you to your own house?” Derek asked, lifting an eyebrow at the man.

“Yeah, because going home right now would be so awesome. Hey, look at that, we tracked you to your house and brought some friends! Maybe I could cook them something to keep them entertained with my little werewolf oven!” Stiles said, glaring. Derek would have said something about that attitude, but he shut up when he saw the way that Stiles was gripping his hand. “Don’t take me there when I can’t protect myself.”

“Alright, that’s it,” Derek stops the car near a sidewalk, and looks at Stiles. “What happens if Scott doesn’t find your special bullet? Are you dying?”

“Not yet. I have a plan, well, more like a last resort but… you get my drift,” the guy shrugged, starting push back the sleeves of his shirt to let his wound breath. It was an awful sight. The skin was swollen and raised, there was a black hole and blood was still running down from it. It was probably going to stain his seats.

“What do you mean last resort?”

“Can you start the car? I’m dying here” Stiles asked him, breathing deeply.

“You should be grateful and tell me what you’re thinking. Maybe, when I’m not completely in the dark, I’ll start the car,” Derek crossed his arms in front of him. It was just a front, he knew it. He just wished that Stiles didn’t.

“Start the car, Derek,” Stiles repeated. It wasn’t a question now, it was an order, and Derek had a mind not to follow it, but Stiles’ eyes were glowing and… ok, by now he knew quite well that glowing eyes in a werewolf were bad idea.

He started the car.

 

***

 

Almost all afternoon trapped in his car with a werewolf, who was dying and who was really starting to smell.

All afternoon.

It was way past dinner time that Scott answered his phone, and by then Derek wanted to rip his hair out of his head. It would have been so much easier if the guy wasn’t mumbling about people, a girl’s name, and many other things while he lost consciousness from time to time.

He couldn’t even take him home, or to his house, and he had turned off the radio ages ago because running out of battery was always a bad idea.

“What am I supposed to do with him?” he asked, trying to sound not as tired as he felt.

“Take him somewhere, anywhere,” Scott answered. Well, that was a great help.

“He’s starting to smell like dead dog, Scott,” he commented. He got a glare from Stiles as an answer.

“Ok, take him to the animal clinic,” was the suggestion from the other side of the phone.

“It was a joke, man.”

“No, it’s perfect,” Scott replied.

“What about your boss?”

“It’s late, he should be gone by now. There’s a spare key in the box behind the dumpster,” Stiles was making grabby hands by his side, so he passed the phone with a “Taking you there it’s actually a good idea, makes more sense than the hospital.”

“Did you find it? Where are you, what’s taking so long? Why haven’t you found it already? I’m dying here. I’m dying to death,” the man said to the phone, barely letting Scott talk at all. Scott must have answered something, Derek couldn’t listen really, but Stiles was talking again. “Look, if you don’t find it I’m dead, buddy. You realize that, right?  _Dead_ -dead. Not like half dead or zombie dead, but Capital D Dead.”

“I’m starting to think that wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” Derek supplied. Stiles just glared at him.

“Look, think about it this way. That alpha out there is calling you against your will, right? He’s so gonna do it again. What are you gonna do when daddy wants you to kill with him? You gonna do it? ‘Cause if I’m dead there won’t be anybody to stop you from killing. And either you kill with him or you get killed. If you wanna stay alive then you need me. And you need to find the bullet.”

There was a groan and a growl, and Derek just said:

“Oh, you are going to feel so at home”.

 

***

 

Scott sent a text when they were just getting inside the clinic. Stiles fell into some bags of dog food like a sack of potatoes, while Derek read the message and tried to make sense of what it meant.

“Does Northern blue monkshood mean anything to you?” he asked.

“Oh, shit. It couldn’t be easy, right? It’s a rare sort of wolf's bane. He has to bring me the bullet,” Stiles complained while clutching his shoulder.

“Why?”

“Why? Because I’m dying, that’s why. Becausewithout it it’s not an _‘I’m dying’_ , it’s an _‘I’m dead’_ , so that’s why,” he answers, lifting an eyebrow and trying to look menacing, even when sweat was pooling in his brow and he looked paler than before.

“Ok, we need to move,” Derek said, trying to lift the guy and keep him up while getting inside the clinic. Sitting in the waiting room wasn’t among their possibilities as the guy was bleeding something awful. They moved to the attention room, with Stiles more or less stumbling behind him and trying to get his t-shirt off at the same time.

When they got there the guy was already half naked, letting Derek watch his back for the first time. His back and the tattoo he was sporting in the middle of it.

That, just the tattoo, he wasn’t thinking about muscles or the way that his skin rippled over his bones, no, that would be disrespectful and completely bad timing, that seeing that the guy was dying.

Right.

Well, the arm and the way that his veins were getting darker against his skin, like some kind of ink that radiated from the wound, were a clear sign of dying in Derek’s opinion.

“What about some Tylenol and stitches? At least you’ll stop the bleeding” Derek supplied with a shrug.

“Yeah, and then the infection will reach my heart and kill me. Great idea, dumbass,” Stiles replied in a breathy whisper.

“Didn’t know about an infection, maybe some antibiotics?” Derek commented, trying to look out for Stiles, make sure he didn’t fall down while looking for whatever it was he was looking for.

“If he doesn’t get here with the bullet in time… Oh God…” Stiles breathed, while searching the cabinets. “Bingo. Here’s the last resort,” he said, picking a weird looking knife from the cabinet and placing it on the table, like some sort of torture instrument to be inspected. “You’ll have to cut off my arm, buddy.”

Derek took it in his hands, pressed the button, felt it vibrate against his skin and left it on the table with a shiver.

“No.”

“Can’t exactly do it myself,” Stiles comment around the strip of rubber that he was tying around his bicep, just over the end of the inky veins.

“What if you bleed to death?” Derek inquired, looking at the tourniquet.

“If this work my body will heal itself. You know, werewolf and all.”

“Yeah… still no,” Derek said, crossing his arms and frowning.

“Why not?” Stiles asked around the thing.

“I have enough nightmares to last me a lifetime, dude. I don’t need your chopped-off bone and muscle added to the list,” Derek says, trying to be completely clear.

“Ok. Good. Don’t cut off my arm, but don’t complain later when I come back to haunt you from the other side. ‘Cause I will. I’ll sit in my ghost-wolfy form besides your bed. You complain about nightmares? I won’t even let you sleep,” Stiles says, trying to sound menacing, but all the mouth breathing and paleness wasn’t really working it for him.

“Yeah, that’s a really good threat. Not going to do it, man,” Derek states.

And then Stiles grabs him by the collar, until his neck is hurting from looking up at him. Not the kind of strength he imagined the guy to have, though he could see his muscles, his abs and all, and he should have been able to imagine that he must have had some good strength, even without the super human thing.

He didn’t even need to talk (though that was an improvement), because the way he breathed in and the way he growled into his skin was enough to let Derek realize how dangerous that man could really be if he wanted.

And then he proceeded to throw up some black goop all over the floor.

“What the hell is that?” Derek asked, more in curiosity than fear.

“That’s my body trying to heal itself. It’s doing a pretty shitty job if you ask me,” he answered between breaths. “You’ll have to cut it”

“Ok… Ok, ok, I’ll do it,” Derek tried to get used to the idea, to feel the weight of the machine in his hand and do it. It was going to be difficult; maybe if he looked the other way? No. He had to make sure the cut was clean, he had to look. God, this was going to be horrible.

“The faster you do it the better, you know? The anxiety is killing me. As if I wasn’t dying already” Stiles panted.

“I will, as soon as you shut up!” Derek exclaimed, nervous.

“Just do it!”

He turned on the machine and then turned it off; he placed it next to the arm and saw the way that Stiles was just looking the other way. Grown up werewolf, completely at his mercy, vulnerable like he had never seen anyone before; the image made his stomach twist.

“Ok, one… two…”

“Derek? Stiles? Oh my God, what are you doing?” Scott cried, unable to move from the door. Derek left the saw on the table and breathed in, lightheaded.

“Did you get it?” Stiles asked. Scott just passed him a large bullet. He stood up, somehow, and looked at it for a while… before fainting and dropping it.

Scott went to find it while Derek kneeled near Stiles. He touched his face; it felt pasty and sweaty under his hands, cold as well. He slapped him a couple times while calling his name.

“Stiles, come on, wake up. Scott, the bullet, quickly. I think he’s dead. He’s not waking up” Derek said, not really listening to what Scott was babbling over the other side of the room. The only thing that mattered right then was that the skin under his hands was getting colder by the second, and that the breathing was getting shallower. He was starting to get scared; he didn’t want anyone else dying on his arms.

“I got it! I got it!” Scott cried, standing up with the bullet in his hands.

“Please don’t kill me for this” Derek said, before punching Stiles on the face. It hurt like punching a fucking wall, but at least it woke him up.

They helped the man stand up, and get to the table, and then looked at him while he pulled the bullet apart with only his teeth. There was something inside that looked like herbs; Stiles was setting them on fire with a convenient lightener that he grabbed from his back pocket. Derek gave a moment of contemplation to the idea of Stiles being a smoker, and if that was either gross or completely hot, before the reality of the situation came crashing back on him.

Stiles was grabbing the burnt powder and applying it directly to the bullet hole; his finger was putting it inside, making sure that the powder got inside the wound… and then he was crying in pain on the floor, writhing and moaning, letting out a growl that could only be described as animal… before the inky color in his veins went back to the bullet hole and disappeared completely, healing the wound without a scar in sight.

“That is awesome,” Derek commented, looking at the new flesh.

“Are you ok?” Scott asked when Stiles sat up.

“Well, except for the agonizing pain… yeah,” he answered with a spirited glare. “Not like I almost died or anything.”

“I’m guessing the ability to talk again is a good sign of health” Derek taunted. Stiles only glared.

“Okay, we saved your life. Which means you’re gonna leave us alone, you got that?” Scott urged. “And if you don’t I’m going to go back to Allison’s dad and I’m gonna tell him everything-“

“Yeah, you’re gonna trust the hunters? The prey is gonna trust the hunters?” Stiles questioned, looking at Scott like he was crazy. “You think they can help you? You think they  _will_  help you?”

“Well, why not? They’re a lot freaking nicer than you are,” Scott stated, and Derek did a double take. Sure, Stiles talked like crazy, and wanted to keep Scott from playing the game, and he was shady as fuck… and maybe he had beaten Scott a couple times, but he wasn’t exactly mean either.

“Oh, they are nice. They’re so nice. I can show you exactly how nice they are,” Stiles said with a glare.

“What do you mean?” Scott asked.

“Thanks for the help, Scott’s friend. You were awesome, even if you tried to cut my arm off. Don’t think I’ll forget about it,” Stiles taunted while grabbing Scott from the nape of the head and walking out of the clinic. Leaving Derek to clean up. Great.

Maybe the hunters really were nicer than Stiles, though he didn’t know if they could possibly be as hot.

Not that Derek thought he was hot, or anything… crap. He totally did.

 

 


	2. Women

**1.5**

 

“Honey, there’s a Derek here to see you?” Lydia’s mom said, after she opened the door to Derek, letting him see way more than he was anticipating and, God, Lydia had fantastic legs.

“What the hell is a ‘Derek’?” the girl on the bed asked, and well… Derek tried not to feel so bad because, really, no one really knew him and he liked that. Being invisible had a lot of perks.

“She took a little something to ease her nerves” the woman commented, trying to excuse the girl on her comment, like Derek wasn’t used to that. “You can- You can go in”

“Thanks”

He walked into the room, not for the first time as he had come here a couple times, carrying her drunk off her ass after some party or another that Lydia never really remembered. The girl on the bed looked a bit like she did all those times, with a slow quality to her movements, and that crazy hair she got that made Derek want to run his fingers through it…

“What are you doing here?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I- I wanted to make sure you were okay” he stuttered.

“Why?” she sat up a bit, but not really, just getting more comfortable and a bit more awake.

Derek wanted to answer, to tell her that he was worried that she hadn’t been in class, that he had been looking everywhere for her but she wasn’t there. He wanted to spill his soul and tell her about that enormous crush he had on her since a kid and that he just couldn’t help but worry.

He only got out an “uh” before she was patting the bed next to her, and his body reacted faster than his mind.

“Because I was worried about you” he uttered. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel… fantastic” Lydia whispered, getting closer and leaning up to him. Touching his arm, and letting him feel her breath on his mouth, and God, she smelled so sweet and nice, and she was so warm, and this was perfect…

He tried to look away, get his eyes somewhere else, somewhere that wasn’t her shoulders, or her eyes, or her neck, or her cleavage, and then he saw it: the bottle of pills next to a cute giraffe. It was the kind of bottle that reminded him of long hours of therapy and her sister crying, telling him everything would be ok. The kind of bottle that reminded him of how fucked up he was and how many pills he had to take a day just to keep going.

Derek took it and read its contents; he whistled.

“I bet you can’t say ‘I saw Suzy sitting in a shoeshine shop’ ten times fast” he tried, looking at the way she looked so out of it that she didn’t even seem to notice his presence, not that that wasn’t common occurrence. But a challenge was a challenge and if there was one person that Derek knew wouldn’t back out from a challenge that was Lydia.

She just looked at him like he was crazy and opened her pale lips to say:

“I saw Shuzy… I shaw…”

“Yeah, I thought so…” he lamented, leaving the bottle on the nightstand again. He tried, and failed, to look at his watch and stop his heart from dropping. He knew enough about those pills to realize how out of it she must be, almost as out as her sister had been after the accident, when she could barely sleep without being woken up by nightmares.

“I saw… something” Lydia started, unable to continue after that.

“Something like… a mountain lion?” it was what Laura had told him, what the police believed was responsible for the attacks. It was the lie that they were feeding to the public because it was the only thing that made a bit of sense.

“A mountain lion” she nodded, unable to look at Derek’s eyes.

“Is that what you saw or what the police told you that you saw?” he asked.

“A mountain lion” she repeated.

“What is that?” he asked, pointing to the giraffe of the nightstand.

“A mountain lion” she repeated.

“You’re so drunk” he complained, looking at the way she behaved. He was used to this, in a way, but never during the day, and never after such a serious situation. It was weird.

And then she fell on his lap and Derek had to control himself, not to run his fingers through her hair and touch her cheek. He breathed deep and tried to keep control. Carefully he lifted Lydia from his lap and let her fall back to the bed.

“I’m going to go, I hope you get better” he said, standing up and going to the door.

“Stay” Lydia muttered, with her eyes closed and her hand running circles on her blanket.

Derek swallowed hard. He was a teenager, he was bound to react and be tempted, right?

He walked back to the bed, cautiously.

“You want _me_ to stay?” Lydia patted the bed next to her and he sat down once again. He tried not to look at her too much, wondering what she might have in mind.

And then he felt her hand moving on his chest, and the way his pulse rose at the contact, he felt Lydia get closer and the way she whispered.

“Yes, please” it was such a sweet voice, the kind that he had never heard directed towards himself, and he wanted to bask in it. He wanted Lydia to whisper all her words to him from now on, because she was the most adorable girl he had ever seen and he was so smart, and cute, and beautiful “Stay… Jackson”

And in love with someone else.

Right.

He swallowed back his hurt pride and tried to untangle the hand on his jacket, but Lydia was passing out on him, falling hard to the bed. With a deep breath he lifted her and put her in a comfortable position. Even if she didn’t notice him, if she didn’t know who he was, he still loved her and he didn’t want anything bad to happen to her. Not even the crick she’d get from lying down in that weird position.

Derek was just covering her up with a blanket, trying and failing to understand how it was possible to be so perfect, when the sound of the phone distracted him.

He didn’t really know why he picked the phone, he wasn’t used to just grab stuff from other people, but he was a bit pissed and the masochist part of him wanted to know if, maybe, it was Jackson calling. He’d be glad to make the bastard suffer a bit.

It was a text, and the phone was too complex for him to understand how to operate it.

And, sliding his finger across the screen, he ended watching a video and the red eyes in the face of a monster.

 

 

***

 

 

Styles didn’t like working out, not really… but he did it because he knew how important it was to be in control of his body, of his reactions and his speed, he did it because he knew how being stronger was an advantage against the other wolf.

However, he knew that what his best feature wasn’t in his muscles.

His mind was the place where the power resided. He was clever, and often underrated; he was clumsy on his everyday life, but agile in battle. And yet, his body was his most lacking of his features; that was why he trained, to get better, to have fewer flaws, to avoid making mistakes again, because his mistakes were deadly, even if he didn’t have anyone else to lose now.

He was training when he heard them. He cursed and got up, he walked upstairs and hid. He wasn’t ashamed of hiding, hiding was a completely good tactic, it was the clever thing to do, it was the way he controlled himself when everything seemed to fall to pieces around him. He hid behind masks, behind words, behind his overflowing mouth. He hid behind his pain in positive words because he didn’t want to be hurt again, to be betrayed.

He smelt her before they even opened the door. She smelt almost the same way as before, maybe a little older, like the strength of her body had finally settled in. And the gunpowder, you couldn’t forget the way the gunpowder had fixed around her skin like a layer of dust.

He could remember the smell he had felt in her car, but this was stronger, this was unadulterated Kate, and it was trespassing on his territory.

God, he hated that woman.

And yet he could still recall the moment when he loved her, when she looked at him with something like desire and she said she loved him, when he had mistaken the rapid beat of her heart as excitement instead of the betrayal it was.

“No one home?” one of them asked. Yeah, right, like he was going to go open the door with milk and cookies.

“Oh, he’s here” and that was Kate. God, he hated her voice. “He’s just not feeling particularly hospitable”

“Maybe he’s out, burying a bone in the backyard” said one of the guys, the one that smelled like too much hair junk and cigarettes. And, oh, haha, real funny.

“Really? A dog joke? We’re going there and that’s the best you got” she asked, and for a second Stiles wanted to cheer. There was a reason he had liked her at once, after all, she was badass. She was the most visceral bitch he knew, the kind that wouldn’t take crap from anyone. “If you wanna provoke him say something like, too bad your dad bit it before he stopped chasing his tail”

God, he hated her.

“Too bad he howled like a bitch when we cut him in half!”

Fuck her.

Stiles got out of his hiding place; he advanced to the guy closer to him and growled, with a punch he sent him flying into a wall. He was a bit too angry to think about how damaging the structure wouldn’t be good. No, if she was responsible for his dad’s death then he wasn’t going to be worrying about that. Even if the house fell on them, he’d be happy to go if it meant that she was dead too.

He saw her smile before he kicked the other guy, and the calm way she stood next to him. He wanted to rip her limbs out; he wanted to rip her throat out.

He jumped, ready to attack, rage clouding his mind.

The electric shock got him by surprise.

“Wow, this one grew up in all the right places” even over the pain Stiles could feel her contempt rolling off her, he knew better than to believe in anything she said “I don’t know whether to kill it or… lick it”

He hated her. God, this hurt like a kick in the balls, and he hated her more than anything. As soon as he got to be able to move again he’d kill her. He’d rip her apart. He’d kill her. He didn’t want to, not really, but he couldn’t stand her presence.

He crawled as far as he could, he was hoping for a respite, for a breather that gave him back enough strength to attack her. She was a human, electric baton or not she cold bleed, and she was a murderer… she had taken the only family he had left, she deserved to die.

He didn’t liked fighting women but this creature in front of him wasn’t a woman, not anymore, not ever. She was a monster.

He tried to lunge at her again, but he was too weak and she was too fast.

The pain made him writhe in the floor, tensing all his muscles at the same time and frying his brain and skin. He wanted it to stop, but not even his body could heal fast enough.

She laughed.

“900.000 volts” she declared, amazed, looking at her weapon.

Stiles needed a break, needed time, to heal, to mend, and to grieve. He needed her gone before the reality of his life came crashing back on him. He needed to be far from her because everything about her hurt, he needed her to be _gone_.

“You never were good with electricity, were you?” she remarked. “Or fire”

Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her.

“Which is why I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, and well… maybe we can help each other out” she sat on the couch, looking at him, like they were somehow exchanging pleasantries over tea and not about to kill each other. Like she hadn’t fucked him up so royally, like she wasn’t the reason he felt so alone, like he hadn’t given up everything for her only to lose it.

He struggled to get up, he tried to make his muscles answer to him again, and he concentrated on that and not on her voice; her mermaid voice and the way he could remember things from their pasts.

“Yes, your dad was severed into pieces and used as bait to try to catch you” she stated. The rage inside him gave him the strength to start again, to breathe, and to try to sit up. “Unpleasant, and frankly, a little too Texas chainsaw massacre for my taste, but quite true”.

Of course; like she ever had dirtied her hands killing people. Kate didn’t like blood, she didn’t like messy kills. She liked things simple and without repercussions. He knew this, even after all this years he knew her; he knew how she worked.

“Now, here’s the part that will really kick you in the balls” she observed with a small laugh. “We didn’t kill him”

He managed to sit up and looked at her, directly at her. She couldn’t be trusted, maybe if he kept telling himself that he’d understand it, he’d stop feeling, he’d realize the true.

“You are so quiet, Stiles, it’s not like you. Do you think I’m lying?” she joked.

“Wouldn’t be the first time” he spat.

“Tsk, sweetie…” she chided. “Well… why don’t you just listen to my heart and tell me if I am?” she asked, crouching besides him. She smiled at him when she asked him if it was okay. It was so condescending, and if he had any more strength he might have even spat in the floor in front of her. Like she hadn’t been able to lie to him the first time around, like she hadn’t looked at him with her big eyes and told him that she loved him.

“We… didn’t… kill… your… daddy” she whispered, the soft beat of her heart betraying not only the fact that she was, apparently, telling the truth, but the fact that she didn’t fear him at all. There were not blips, no changes, but there wasn’t any hurry the beats etiher. She wasn’t scared of him, but then again, she had already broken him… she didn’t have anything to be afraid of.

“Do you hear that? There’s no blips or upticks. Just the steady beat of the cold, hard truth”… A truth that Stiles had been avoiding so far.

Kate stood up; she turned her back on him, completely unafraid. That hurt almost as much as the electric cane.

“Found bite marks on your father’s body, Stiles. What do you think did that? A mountain lion?” she joked. God, he hated her smile almost as much as he had loved it once. “Why aren’t we helping each other out?”

_Because you’re a bitch? Because I’d rather choke on my tongue?_

“You might as well admit what you’ve been guessing all along, which is… the Alpha killed your father… And all you have to do is tell us who he is and we’ll take care of it for you” she resumed after closing her weapon. Stiles breathed a bit more calmly now that his biggest threat was off. “Problem solved, everybody goes home happy” Kate went on.

But there had had to be something in his face, in his silence. Stiles was never a great liar, he actually sucked at it, he was awful… and Kate knew him too well. She knew what guilt looked like in his face and how frustration got him all moody.

Fuck her.

“Unless… you don’t know who he is either”

And then there was that laugh. He knew that laugh, he knew it too well. It was the same laugh she had given him at school when he had asked her to come home with him, when he had told him that he wanted her to meet his parents, that he was in love and that he could fight against all odds if it meant to be with her; to hell with tradition, with rules, with the Code, if they loved each other they should have the right to be together. She had laughed then, this same laugh, and told him that there wasn’t going to be much of a house to go to and that there weren’t going to be any parents either, so she was going to stop wasting time with him and go back to her normal life. Only a few minutes later he was told the news.

Only a few minutes later he lost everything. She hadn’t lit the match that set the fire, but she had given the final blow with her laugh.

This was the same thing, the same laugh. And it put him in alert.

“Wow, guess who just became totally useless?” she joked as she turned. Stiles didn’t wait for it. He got up and ran. He didn’t have anything of his in that house, nothing they could still or have any use for, he could leave. So he ran. 

The sound of the shots breaking wood and glass followed him no matter how fast he ran away from his home.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm just starting to write in this fandom, so I hope you liked it. I'm not, however, a regular poster. I can't follow a schedule to save my life, so if you liked the fic, subscribe to it. It's my best recommendation.


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